


Denial So Sweet

by septemberprudence



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:58:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4333008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septemberprudence/pseuds/septemberprudence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fernando needs something to hold on to while times are tough. Mark is happy to oblige.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Denial So Sweet

Fernando had warned him how bad the car was before the season started, but the first race still left Mark shocked. "It'll get better," he told Fernando when he called. "It'll be different when you're driving it."

"Maybe," Fernando said, but he didn't seem convinced. Mark couldn't blame him.

Mark watched Sepang, heart sinking as he saw Fernando interviewed wearing that fixed, unnatural smile, heard him talking about _challenges_ and _teamwork_ and _belief_.

It was hours later when Mark's phone finally rang. "What time is it there?" he asked, picking up.

"I don't know," Fernando said. "Did you watch the race?"

"Yes," replied Mark, knowing he didn't need to say anything further.

Fernando was silent for a minute, and Mark resisted the urge to speak, wanting to give him time. "With this car," Fernando said, at last, "the way it is. I'm going to…" He inhaled. "I'm going to need something."

"Anything, you know that," Mark said instantly.

"You need to give me something to hold on to."

Mark nodded to himself, understanding. "What if I don't let you get yourself off till you finish in the points? Like you'll have to wait for me to do you, every time." 

"I don't think that's enough," Fernando replied, slowly. "Maybe not let me come at all, until I get in the points?"

Mark laughed ruefully. "Mate, that shitbox they've given you, you'll end up with balls the size of coconuts if you hold off coming till you're in the points."

"I suppose."

"How about…" Mark thought for a minute, running through the possibilities. Fernando obviously needed something a bit harsher than their normal thing, something motivating enough that he could use to hang on while times were this tough, but Mark didn't want to be too strict. "How about you don't get my cock until you're in the points?" he suggested. "Like, I won't fuck you, and you can't suck me or even touch me till then."

Fernando made an anguished little noise, and Mark knew he'd hit the jackpot. The guy might be many things: a good person, a loyal friend, the best (in Mark's opinion, at least) driver in motorsport, but he was also the biggest fucking cock slut Mark had ever met. 

"I…" Fernando sounded genuinely distressed. "I don't know if I can do that. What if I don't get any points all year?"

"Then you'll be pretty fucking frustrated, won't you?" Mark lowered his voice, shoving his hand down the front of his sweat pants as he said, "I want you think about it now, my cock."

Fernando hissed in delight. "Are you touching it?"

"Yeah," Mark replied. "Good and slow, and I'm thinking about you, thinking about how I'm going to get you on your knees in front of me. And you'll want me in your mouth so fucking bad, you'll be begging for it, wanting to suck me."

"But you won't let me?"

"I won't," said Mark. "I'll make you just watch, while I do myself, right in front of you, and when I'm done, I'll come all over your face, make a nice mess of you." He stroked his cock harder, faster. "Leave you there, see it drip down your skin, get all through your beard just to make sure you stink of me."

"Can I taste it?" asked Fernando.

"No," Mark replied. "You don't get anything, not till you've earned it." He pictured Fernando, covered in come and desperate for Mark's cock, just about pleading for it, barely restraining himself, chest rising and falling with deep, frustrated breaths. The thought was enough to get Mark off, and he moaned loudly, wanting Fernando to hear it as he finished himself, coming into his hand.

Fernando waited a minute, then asked, "Can I come now?"

Mark took a moment, making a point of considering the question. "I don't think so," he said. "Not tonight."

"In the morning?"

"I don't know."

"Please?" Fernando said, and Mark smiled to himself, knowing exactly how much Fernando hated to say that.

"Fine," he said. "In the morning. And send me a picture when you're done."

"Fine," Fernando repeated, sounding exactly as pissed off as Mark had hoped he would. He knew Fernando well enough to understand that this was precisely what he needed, something to rail against enough that it would distract him from the multitude of things he couldn't control about his current situation.

"They'll fix the car," Mark said, before he finished the call. "You know that, right? I mean, eventually they will." 

"Eventually, yes," replied Fernando, so lost and forlorn-seeming that all Mark wanted to do was hold him, reassure him that it would all be okay.

But right now, that wasn't what would help. Mark consciously hardened his voice, and said, "No coming, no touching yourself. Not till tomorrow."

"Okay," Fernando said, firmly.

.

The car wasn't going to be fixed in five minutes, that much was obvious, but this was McLaren. _McLaren_ , Mark thought, genuinely shocked that they had made so little progress.

And yet he was more than slightly impressed at the fact Fernando was still putting on a brave face publicly. Though, Mark supposed, Fernando _not_ putting on a brave face would mean conceding that he'd fucked up by leaving Ferrari and Fernando admitting he was wrong was not something that _ever_ happened. It just wasn't how the guy was built, which was sometimes admirable, sometimes, like now, just simply stupid.

But that didn't matter.

"How's your arse?" he asked.

"What?"

"It's aching for it, I bet," said Mark. "Your mouth, too." He moved the phone to his other hand, ready to touch himself. "I know how you get when you haven't had my cock for a while."

"I'm fine," replied Fernando, sulkily.

"No, you're not." Mark laughed. "You're fucking gagging for it, I know you are."

"I'm not."

"I can hear it in your voice, how much you need it."

"What about you?" Fernando challenged him. "I bet you need it too, you're desperate to fuck me, I know you are."

"I can handle it." Mark shrugged. "But I'm missing it, yeah." He sighed to himself. "That hot little arse of yours, sliding in nice and slow, feeling how tight you are." Fernando let out a small, undignified whimper, and Mark grinned. "Better hurry up and get that car working, mate," he said.

"Fuck you," Fernando replied.

.

At Silverstone, Mark watched the field fall apart, one by one, his anticipation mounting with every single driver who dropped out of the race. "Come on," he muttered quietly, willing Fernando on, sure that if he just held his breath long enough, that bullshit fucking car would somehow make it over the line.

And then, _tenth_. One single bloody point but it felt like the best victory he could imagine. Because while yeah, most of his brain was taken up by the thought that he'd be getting some tonight, he also knew how much it would mean to Fernando, just to be finally making progress, not to be stuck near the bottom of the list with a big old zero next to his name.

Mark spent the next few hours pacing up and down, waiting for Fernando's call. Prick was probably making him wait, he thought, just to get back at him, but he knew that wasn't true. He remembered the endless debriefs after races, how they'd often go on late into the night, particularly when the car wasn't doing all that it should.

But then, at last, his phone buzzed with a message. Hotel name, hotel room number, and Mark was in his car and on his way faster than his old Red Bull used to take the corners. Or possibly faster, at least. Definitely faster than the current McLaren took a corner. Which wasn't saying much, of course, but Mark wasn't ever going to shit on the damn thing again because it had somehow earned Fernando a point, and that was all that mattered.

There was traffic to contend with, because it was Silverstone, but Mark made it to the hotel in record time, tapping one foot impatiently as he rode upstairs in the lift, practically sprinting along the corridor to Fernando's room.

He bashed his fist on the door, which opened to reveal Fernando wearing only an eager smile and a hard-on that looked like it could cut steel. 

Mark took a deep breath and slammed Fernando back against the nearest wall, kissing him desperately, their teeth bumping together as Mark reached behind him to close the door, trying to rip open the front of jeans at the same time.

"Fuck me," Fernando begged. "I need you to fuck me."

Mark spun Fernando around, pushing him face first into the wall. He had lube and a condom ready in his pocket, not wanting to waste a single second, and he rolled the condom on to his cock fast as he could manage it, slicking himself up with trembling hands, tossing the lube aside.

"Please," said Fernando, voice breaking on the word, almost wailing as Mark pushed inside him. And god, it had been so long, Mark thought, but it was _so_ worth the wait.

Fernando threw his head back against Mark's shoulder, eyes rolling back, his mouth open as he bit down on his bottom lip. Shit, Mark thought, _shit_ but he was beautiful like this.

"So fucking good, you are," he said, biting down on Fernando's ear, swiping his tongue over it the mark it left. "You're so good to me." He had one arm wrapped around Fernando's chest, and he used his free hand to stroke Fernando's damp, curling hair back off his forehead. "All mine, yeah?" Mark said, hips moving like pistons as he fucked in even harder. "Tell me you're all mine."

Fernando groaned, then muttered, "All yours."

"Louder," Mark ordered. "Say it."

_"Fuck,"_ said Fernando. "All. Yours," he enunciated, his voice clear, and it was the sweetest thing Mark had ever heard.

.

"A point, hey?" Mark said, kissing the top of Fernando's head, which rested on his chest. He wasn't sure he could even move he was so fucked out, but he'd never felt better.

"A point," Fernando echoed. "Not bad."

"Never thought I'd see you so happy about one point."

"I am happy." Fernando shrugged contentedly. "But we don't wait for the next point for you to fuck me again, yes?"

Mark laughed. "Definitely not, mate."

Fernando nodded. "Good," he said.


End file.
